


A Last Drink

by spellitwithyourpeas



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: F/M, Gen, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-26
Updated: 2016-07-26
Packaged: 2018-07-26 19:14:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7586545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spellitwithyourpeas/pseuds/spellitwithyourpeas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She was rattled, striding over to the bar at the end of their hotel room. Wordlessly she poured herself a generous glass of vodka to which she gulped down in its entirety.</p>
<p>Napoleon sighed, "Gaby-"</p>
<p>She raised her index finger off the glass with a glare and a low warning. "Not a word."</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Last Drink

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little one shot . This was a 3 am idea so if it's funky that's what I'm going to blame it on ;)

She was rattled, striding over to the bar at the end of their hotel room. Wordlessly she poured herself a generous glass of vodka to which she gulped down in its entirety.

Napoleon sighed, "Gaby-"

She raised her index finger off the glass with a glare and a low warning. "Not a word."

Napoleon's hands dug deeper into the pockets of his dripping wet pants and watched her tip the bottle again.

 He shook his head, turning at the sound of the door opening, "Ah, Kuryakin perfect timing." Napoleon gave a small nod of welcome.

"What's this?" Asked the Russian wearily as he eyed his two soaked companions.

Gaby watched Illya walk in and saw his hard expression soften as he took in the sight of her. His concern almost lightened her seething tone.

Almost.

She straightened, doing her best to control the trembling that had yet to subside. "Our American friend decided tonight was the perfect night for a swim."  

Napoleon took a breath, "We were running out of options." His voice was flat.

"Yes and that's the problem. You said you had a plan." Her voice was cutting.

He arched an eyebrow "I did.” He paused, and handed her the blanket that was draped over the couch before continuing as she tugged the material out of his hands, “And then it went haywire. You need to be more flexible. I thought, given your background, that wouldn't be a problem."

Gabby set the glass down on the bar before she walked into the bathroom without looking back at the two agents.

 Maybe it was that the mission was dragging on and that tonight had been their one good shot at finally getting ahead. Maybe it was the fact that she hadn't been sleeping lately-even her evening night cap failed her. Maybe it was that she would have been shot had Napoleon not wrenched her out of the line of fire.

 Her hands shook as they ran.

It could have been a number of things that had her feeling like she was slipping and losing control.But being pushed into the cold river, her senses jarred and nerves frozen as she scrambled beneath the water, certainly had something to do with her current mood.

Gaby stripped and stepped under the warm water of the shower and exhaled. Her anger wasn't really justified. Napoleon had just been the closest scapegoat.

He wouldn't hold it against her, she knew that. His arguing with her most likely a way to save that uncaring attitude he so loved to cultivate.

He didn’t fool her.

He would, however, let her words slide right off his broad shoulders and move on to the next mission or woman. (Same thing really).

 Napoleon spared a glance towards the bathroom before he poured his own glass and looked up to find a very stoic Russian staring in the same direction. His arms were crossed.

Napoleon smiled, "No words of criticism Peril?"

Illya turned back to him, his voice low. "Not this time Cowboy. I'll talk to her."

"I'd love to be a fly on the wall for that conversation." Napoleon smirked.

"Fortunately, I already debugged the room. Your work is getting sloppy." Illya replied through gritted teeth.

Walking to the door of the suite, Napoleon winked, "That's what you think my Russian friend." He paused, a hand on the doorknob and nodded in the direction of the bathroom, the faint sounds of water running filled the silence. His tone lost the easy banter and grew serious, "She hasn’t been sleeping well has she?"

Illya's reply was clipped, "No."

Napoleon knew this mission had been difficult for her. Played a little too close to the chest. "Well maybe you can help her out with that."

Illya paused, "I...don't understand your meaning."

"Distract her. You two have been pussyfooting around each other since Moscow."

When he glanced over, Illya's expression was blank. "By distract her I take it you mean..."

"I mean in whatever way she so desires. Though, it doesn't seem like our girl Gaby is fond of conversation."

Illya's lips twitched at the remembrance of first time they shared a hotel room.

The damage had been costly.

The gentle, "Goodnight Kuryakin” broke his train of thought as Napoleon shut the door with a smile.

A few minutes later Gaby exited the bathroom dressed in the soft, complimentary robe, toweling her hair dry to find Illya staring down at the chess board. She smiled the first genuine smile of the evening.

"Who's winning?"

He turned around sharply, watching as Gaby padded over to join him in the chair facing him and he gestured to the board. "Would you like to play?"

The pieces were still in their starting positions. "Ah I see, still calculating your first move."

He nodded.

She liked his quiet nature. It suited her well.

Gaby plucked a pawn and placed it on a square and watched her friend's eyebrows scrunch together in thought.

They played with few words spoken between them.

She didn't feel like dancing tonight. Didn't feel like wrestling or sparing either.Tonight she needed silence and a fresh start.

The adrenaline was fading from her system as they neared the end of the game.

He was winning.

It would never occur to him to let her win. He himself would have been insulted at the proposition.

Her eyes grew heavy and she rested her chin on the palm of her hand. The vision of him staring fixated at the board going in and out until it was the last bit of color she saw before the black of sleep.

When Illya made his move and glanced up for her reaction, he was both pleased and surprised to see her sleeping.

He rose quietly and slid his arms under her. Gently lifting her, he walked back to the king sized bed in the center of the bedroom and tucked her in.

It was hardly the first time.

This time though, she spoke as he loosened his grip on her.

"Stay."

Her fingers snagged his and she pulled him closer.

She didn’t see it, but he stepped out of his shoes before settling on the bed next to her. She leaned into him and with a sigh of content, drifted back to sleep.

Illya watched her.

 Marveled at her and in time, he slipped into his own gentle slumber, as calm and quiet as the heart that beat next to his.

**Author's Note:**

> I really (really) hate writing plots so hence this little scene without a larger story going on.(And I suck at titles-so this one, like the last, came from the song titles on the soundtrack).
> 
> Thank you so much for checking it out!


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